


Vampire Merlin

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Boys Kissing, Canon Era, Court Sorcerer Merlin (Merlin), Fluff and Angst, Good Morgana (Merlin), Gwaine Being Gwaine (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Pining, Protective Knights (Merlin), Vampire Merlin (Merlin), Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27365515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Merlin's struck by a curse, but thankfully, he has a group of people willing to help him
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 336





	Vampire Merlin

**Author's Note:**

> Idea from my friend Bwebins, enjoy! :)

_‘Merlin! Hold on, we’re going to get you out.’_

He’d been trapped. He distinctly remembered that, could hear Arthur screaming his name as the Church crumpled around him. There had been a flash of light, of Merlin trying to use his Magic to protect himself, as he now could do with his title of Court Sorcerer. Arthur and the Knights teased him relentlessly for his hesitance to use his Magic, but the Warlock didn’t mind. After all, it would take a while for him to feel settled in Camelot. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that, despite how he’d cheated Destiny, it was coming back to bite him.

Which was why he’d only felt dread when a very angry High Priestess had managed to trap him inside a Church of the Old Religion, a place where his Magic refused to work. Convenient, and combining that with the fact that something large had hit him on the head, the Warlock was immobilised.

_‘We need to get him to Gaius!’_

_‘Is he breathing?’_

It had been dark. Merlin had never been afraid of the dark as a child, something to do with the fact that he could create light with nothing more than a thought. But alone, trapped deep below the ground, he’d realised that the dark could hide many dangerous things.

Then someone had found him. That hadn't been Arthur, although they did have blonde hair. Brown eyes, though, the same High Priestess that hated him for stealing her sister. Morgana Pendragon was now officially the King’s sister, and trained alongside him.

King.

Arthur, he’d done this to protect Arthur. As always, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect the King. He could almost see him, the dread in his eyes as rubble started to fall, the emotions overwhelming.

_‘He’s not… I don’t understand. He’s alive, his eyes are moving!’_

_‘But has he got a pulse?’_

She’d chained him up, iron wrapping around his wrists as she held something in her hand. A goblet, and his nose was pinched so he drunk the contents of the cup.

It had burned. Merlin recalled screaming for Arthur, for begging his King to come and save him.

_‘Merls?’_

He could hear a heartbeat. It thudded away, and to begin with, Merlin thought it was his own. But no, it couldn’t be, because it was a steady beating. He listened to it for a moment, felt his stomach grumble as he tried to struggle against whoever was holding him.

‘Merls!’ Gwaine. He identified the scent, the pinewood and leather oil that was so much stronger at the moment. The Warlock grimaced, fought to keep his eyes open and met Gwaine’s gaze. He looked concerned, guilty, but somehow Merlin’s attention kept dipping to the man’s neck.

He could hear an odd sound, the sound of a steady thrumming that lulled the Warlock back into his sleep.

The next time he woke up, he was in his home. Well, Gaius’s home, and he looked across to find the Physician looking… sad. Heartbroken, eyes filled with tears, something that was rare enough to confuse him. He tried to sit up, only to find his body slightly unresponsive.

‘It can’t be.’

‘It makes sense, Sire. He’s not breathing, yet he’s clearly still… here.’ Merlin wanted to point out that if he wasn’t breathing, he clearly wasn’t alive. But then he focused on his own chest, only to see it wasn’t rising and falling.

‘A…Arth’r?’ The King was by his side in a heartbeat, a worried frown crossing his face as he settled by his side.

‘Merlin, how are you feeling?’ The King was breathing rapidly, heartbeat elevated, and Merlin cocked his head to the side in confusion. He reached out for comfort, noted that Arthur didn’t try and stop him.

‘What did she do to me?’ He croaked out, trying to sit up and flinching when Arthur’s arm wrapped around him to help.

For some reason, the touch worried him. Everything in him told him he had to run, to get away from Arthur before the King got hurt.

Before he hurt him.

‘It’s alright, we’re finding a cure as we speak.’ The Knights were in the room, all looking at him with different ranges of pity. Sympathy, something he’d never wanted, so why were they…

‘A cure for what?’ He asked, looking at his pale skin. Nobody answered, not even Gwaine, the Knight he’d presumed would always tell him the truth.

‘An illness.’ Gaius answered, which wasn’t the truth.

Merlin decided that he didn’t want to listen to this, not when they weren’t telling him the truth. He rolled over, tucked the blanket up over him and tried to recall what exactly Morgause had said to him.

**

The Warlock left his bed, once they’d all disappeared. Chatter under their breaths about finding books, about needing more information. Arthur had come back, not quite looking him in the eye when he promised he could fix this.

Merlin didn’t want Arthur to leave, he wanted him to stay. He wanted the comfort of his… friend.

Those thoughts drew Merlin towards the kitchen area, staring at the pot of stew that was bubbling away.

He was starving.

He helped himself to a big portion, carrying the bowl across and taking a seat on the bench. He reached for a spoon, taking a scoop and swallowing it down.

Only to spit it back out, because it tasted disgusting.

‘Ew, eugh!’ The water didn’t help much, just swirled the awful taste around. Just to test his issue, he took another bite, but the same thing happened. The stew, Merlin’s favourite, tasted like ash.

His hunger directed him towards the door, thinking that he might convince the cook to let him steal some pastries, before he got distracted by a book on the table. It was open, a sketch of some horrible creature with red eyes staring back at him, and he focused on the word.

_‘Vampire.’_

He spoke the word aloud, testing it on his tongue, before his gut tightened.

The book showed a goblet filled with a red liquid, along with a list of symptoms that he read over with increasing anxiety.

‘Lack of pulse, increased hunger, heightened senses.’ Each word that he read made sense, and by the time he’d got to the description of the creature, Merlin decided that this was very bad.

Very bad, because they were described as the darkest of creatures. They hunted people, they chased them down like prey, before ripping into them to drain them of blood.

Merlin had drunk from the goblet, and now he was a creature that wasn’t supposed to exist. A mythical beast, like something Arthur would hunt.

Arthur would have to hunt him.

Gods, he was so hungry. His stomach _ached_ , his body urging him to leave the room in search of something, but he couldn’t leave.

Wood. Wood could kill Vampires, a piece straight to the heart. He read those words over and over, before glancing to the spoon he’d just been holding. It was crafted from wood, so he picked it up, turned it over in his hands.

They’d gone to find a cure, but Merlin knew that there wasn’t one. He was going to turn into this creature, and there would be nothing they could do to stop it.

**

‘…my lord?’ A maid was talking. Her lips moved, eyes growing increasingly concerned as he slumped against the pillar, hiding from the sunlight that crept around it. It prickled his skin, itched uncomfortably, and he should have expected that. Such a horrible monster couldn’t walk in the light, he belonged in the shadows.

Ironic, considering he’d only just stopped hiding who he was.

‘Are you okay?’ The maid reached for him, probably because he used to be a manservant to the King and she felt comfortable addressing him. He recognised her as Ella, one of the kitchen staff that he occasionally picked up shifts for when she needed to go and tend to her sisters living in Camelot.

Despite the fact he knew her, that he had protected her on multiple occasions from visiting nobles, his mind urged him to reach for her. To grab hold of her wrist, to bring it up to his lips and…

‘Go. Go!’ She looked terrified, her hand snatching back as she turned and fled.

He needed to run. He needed to get away from this place, away from Camelot, where people were in every direction he turned.

**

He could hear everything. The Warlock stumbled further, trying to cover his ears as he walked further into the trees. The scenes blurred around him, noise that bothered his senses and light that still hurt his exposed skin. He tried to keep to the shadows, but it was hard to do so when his body was demanding nutrition that he didn’t want to give it.

‘Merlin!’ Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the rattle of chainmail. The rustling of leaves underneath boots, of a heartbeat that was elevated.

He’d not left Camelot quietly enough. Hitting into market stalls, knocking over harmless people as he tried to get as far away from the temptation as possible. He needed to flee, to find Morgause and beg her to end whatever she’d started, because he couldn’t _live_ if he hurt Arthur.

Merlin continued to run, wondering if his Magic was going to help defend him, or if it had abandoned him the moment he’d been turned into a creature of evil.

‘Merlin!’ A flash of red in front of him, and Merlin shied away from Gwaine, shaking his head.

‘Stay back, stay, I don’t want to hurt you!’ The Knight held his hands up placatingly, a stalemate forming between the two of them. Merlin was ready to flee, but the Knight just smiled slowly, offering out a wineskin.

‘You won’t hurt me, Merls. We can deal with this, okay? We just need you to come here.’ Gwaine took a step closer, and Merlin was confused by the fact that his heartbeat was a steady thumping. No fear, no anxiety over the fact that he was alone in a clearing with a monster.

‘I’m so hungry.’ He whispered, feeling horrified by the words.

Gwaine just smirked, winking at him like this was just a casual conversation.

‘I got you some good juice.’ He gestured to the bottle, undoing the corked lid and waving it temptingly.

It was blood.

He could smell it, could almost taste it, and he felt a pressure against his lips. His tongue snuck out, licking along the line of his teeth, finding two particularly sharp.

‘Gwaine…’

‘S’okay, Merls. It was willingly donated.’ Not by any of the Knights. He knew their smells, and it certainly wasn’t Morgana or Gwen.

He took a step closer, trying to will his body into submission, not wanting to even think about hurting Gwaine.

‘Gaius said that once you’ve drunk, it’ll be easier to control. We can work this out.’ Another step, Gwaine doing the same, until there was barely any distance between them.

He could hear Gwaine’s heart. Could smell the blood under his skin, feel the warmth radiating off of him as they stood close, waiting for the other to move.

_‘Come on, Merls. You can do it.’_

Gwaine’s lips didn’t move, but he heard it perfectly, reaching out a shaking hand to take the wineskin.

‘That’s it.’ Gwaine prompted, while Merlin raised the wineskin to his lips.

It was hard to drink with his new teeth in the way, so he settled for gulping it down as quickly as possible. He hadn't expected it to taste so sweet, sickly yet not too much, and his body finally stopped hurting.

As he drunk it down, no more than five large gulps in total, he realised it was not just one person’s blood. It was two, a mix of different tastes that lingered on his tongue. He identified the first as Sefa’s blood, the tangy aftertaste similar to her scent.

The second made him gag, but not out of the taste. It was because he recognised the person as George, the same servant that had taken over Merlin’s job now that he’d been appointed as Court Sorcerer.

‘Better?’ Gwaine asked, watching him curiously as Merlin licked his lips. He paused, realised that the sun wasn’t hurting him as much now, that he could stand closer to Gwaine and wasn’t as worried that he’d do something bad.

‘Better.’ He admitted, taking a big step back, just to be safe.

‘C’mon, mate. The Princess will be panicking.’

**

There was a whole lot of chatter, but Merlin was too busy twiddling his thumbs to listen. Arthur refused to look in his direction, so Gwaine had settled by his side, keeping him company. The spoon had been his focus of attention, until he’d accidentally splintered it between his hands.

Apparently, he had a new-found strength.

‘So, he just takes turns biting us?’ Merlin winced, looking at Sir Elyan.

‘Yes.’

‘What?’ Merlin snapped, not expecting Arthur to agree to it.

Finally, the King looked at him.

‘You need to feed, and we’ll provide blood.’

‘No.’

‘This isn’t optional.’

‘You’re being a prat!’ Merlin shouted, standing up far too quickly. In fact, he was pretty sure the world blurred around him a little. Arthur didn’t look threatened, just raised an eyebrow at him in a move so similar to Gaius that it was actually a little scary.

It was one of the things that Merlin lov… liked about Arthur, his courage.

‘For wanting to keep you alive?’

‘I died back in that Church!’ He protested, while Arthur’s face closed-off of emotions.

‘You’ll feed, or I’ll make you.’ A silence descended over the group, with Gaius glaring at the King while Merlin realised that none of the Knights were going to defend him.

‘I’ll end up hurting someone.’

‘No you won’t. You’re Merlin.’ Arthur stated, like it made perfect sense.

‘And you’re a clotpole.’

**

Morgana and Gwen had absolutely no hesitations around him. He tried to point out that he was dangerous, that he could hurt them, but they both completely ignored the warnings and settled by his side. Eventually, he gave up protesting, wanting the comfort of his two closest friends.

Usually, Merlin left their shared room at sundown. Tonight, he didn’t fancy sleeping alone in his new Chambers, the ones gifted to him upon his appointment of Court Sorcerer. So, he kept his arm around Morgana, left Gwen curled to his chest.

He didn’t need to sleep. He figured that out later, when the moon was shining and the two girls were still asleep.

A Vampire. He tested the word again, wondering if he’d always say it with such hatred. Would there ever be a time when he could think of it as a positive?

He was stronger. Quicker. He could hear the footsteps of the Guards outside, and if he focused hard enough, could hear the thoughts that flicked through their minds.

His job had always been to protect Arthur. It was why he’d been out on the Quest with them in the first place, the reason he’d gone into that Church before the King could. Maybe this was his way of continuing to do so?

A flash of hunger passed through him, a warning that he should put some distance between himself and his friends. He extracted himself carefully, moving over towards the door and slipping out into the dark.

**

Merlin had never felt more intimidated in his life. He stood there awkwardly, looking between the group while trying not to comment on the fact that he would rather leave Camelot than have to be in this situation.

‘So, you just take a couple of mouthfuls. No big deal.’ Had it been anyone other than Gwaine, Merlin probably would have run.

Instead, he allowed the Knight to roll up his sleeve, watched as the tanned skin underneath was revealed. He didn’t understand why they all had to watch, before realising it was probably to make sure he didn’t take too much.

‘Snack time.’ Gwaine teased, reaching for the knife on his belt, but Merlin shook his head. If he saw Gwaine bleeding, he would try and stop it, rather than drink.

‘Gaius says for the first couple of weeks, you should feed every other day.’ Feed. It was that word that disturbed him, and Merlin tried for a smile. It was weak, at best.

Gaius wanted to talk about it. Everyone did, even Arthur, but Merlin just wanted to go back to how things had been before the Church. He wanted to find Morgause, and make it clear that he was never going to let her go after what she’d done to him.

It was just a mouthful. That was all he needed to do, he just had to force himself to get the difficult bit over.

Gwaine’s skin was hot under his touch, and the closer Merlin brought it, the more the panic took over. He went to look away, but he found Arthur’s gaze on them, focused on where Merlin’s mouth was inches away from Gwaine’s skin. If Merlin hadn't have known better, he’d call it jealousy.

‘Easy.’ Strangely, it was Gwaine’s soothing that helped. The Knight was waiting patiently, no expectations, no fear, and Merlin realised that he was allowed to do this.

That they were trying to help him.

All it took was focus on the blood vessel under the skin for him to control the hunger, biting down gently and listening to Gwaine’s gasp. His heart skipped, but he didn’t try and pull away, so Merlin let blood fill his mouth until he had enough to gulp.

It tasted so much better than whatever had been in the wineskin, fresh and warm and too good to let go, another half-mouthful swallowed down greedily.

It was then that he remembered it was Gwaine he was biting, and his fangs retracted on instinct. Two circular pinpricks were left behind, bleeding lightly as he pulled back.

In the window, he caught a glimpse of his reflection, of red eyes that he blinked back until they were replaced with blue.

‘Did it hurt?’ Sir Leon asked, not out of fear, but curiosity. Gwaine was prodding at his arm, pupils rather wide and skin flushed, surprisingly.

‘It actually felt good. Like…’

‘An aphrodisiac.’ Arthur stated, another of Gaius’s warnings coming to the forefront. It was supposed to help a Vampire hunt his prey, but it made Merlin feel sick when he thought about it.

‘It doesn’t hurt.’ Gwaine stated firmly, leaving no room for argument, and Merlin attempted to smile.

It wasn’t great, but he could deal with it.

**

Merlin was used to keeping secrets. It came as part of the territory of having Magic in a place where it used to be illegal, so it was no surprise that he was now walking around Camelot with another. Not his new-found skills, no they were widely discussed. It was common knowledge to the people of the city that the Court Sorcerer had been cursed by Morgause, but that his “inner strength” was enough to keep the darkness at bay.

For the first couple of months, they were still weary of him. But when he proved that he was still the same Merlin, just without the need for food and with skin that was cold to the touch, they accepted him. People would stop to chat, and more and more came to the Castle to offer blood. He tried not to feel too embarrassed when people openly asked what they tasted like, a sentence so strange that it had him blushing despite the lack of circulation.

His new speed meant he could run from one end of the Castle to the other in mere seconds, darting around whenever he felt the need to annoy Arthur. The King made him start training, which was fun, mostly because Merlin now had the strength to flatten any of them if he chose to.

Still, there was something exhilarating about knowing that they didn’t fear him. That, when Arthur accidentally cut himself on the hunting knife, that he had no qualms about letting Merlin heal him. His magic had settled into his curse comfortably, the two intertwining without issues.

He fed less and less, would take no more than a couple of mouthfuls of blood from one of the five Knights that protected the King. Occasionally, if he got injured or used a lot of energy, he would drink from the reserves that Gaius kept on standby in case of an emergency.

Which was why keeping this secret felt bad.

It had been thirteen days since Merlin last fed. His skin itched uncomfortably in the sun, so he tended to stick to the shadows as he moved around the Castle. It was nobody’s fault, the Knights were preparing for the upcoming tournament, so Merlin had said he’d get his blood from a different source.

The thing was, the replacement found was from one of the younger Knights who wasn’t competing. His name was Arnold, and he had looked very nervous on their first meeting. Merlin had assured him that it wouldn’t hurt, had bit down, only to find something very wrong.

Gaius had quickly identified other symptoms, and along with Merlin’s insistence that there was something wrong, they discovered he had a blood condition. The boy was put onto different herbal remedies, and Merlin promised he’d find a different person to drink from.

But he hadn't. The thing was, he still didn’t want to ask. Each time he thought about doing so, the shame of it came bubbling up, and he fell silent once more.

Which was why he walked into Arthur’s Chambers with a headache that was rapidly growing, not noticing the bucket on the floor. He tripped, narrowly avoided hitting the table and then promptly lost his footing, ending up sprawled on the floor.

Groaning, the Warlock rose his head, only to find a pair of leather boots in front of him.

‘Want to explain what just happened?’ Arthur’s tone gave nothing away, so Merlin hoped he could get away with his usual approach.

‘I tripped?’ Sarcasm didn’t work, the King looked even less pleased. It was then that Merlin realised this was the first time Arthur had finally looked him in the eye.

‘See, I spoke to one of my Knights at training, this morning. Sir Arnold said you helped identify a blood condition that he had.’ Oh no, this couldn’t be good. Slowly, he rose to his feet, saw the anger in Arthur’s eyes as they faced each other.

‘I was going to tell you.’

‘Before or after you starved?’ He winced, watched as Arthur exhaled and walked across to the curtains. They were thrown open, and Merlin hissed as the sun hit him, stepping back sharply.

‘You have no idea how angry I am right now.’ The King growled out, moving to his chair and sitting down. He looked ready to shout, but he didn’t, just sat there while Merlin tried to work up the courage to apologise.

‘I…’

‘Come here.’ He did, because it was Arthur, after all, and he’d always obey.

‘Kneel.’ For some reason, his stomach tightened at the word, eyes widening as he sunk down to his knees on the cold stone. Arthur’s lips quirked at the corners, like he could read where Merlin’s thoughts dipped to.

‘If you’re going to act like a child, Merlin, I’ll treat you like one.’ He rolled his eyes, which earned him a boot nudging at his thigh.

If anyone walked in now, the sight had to be an odd one. Arthur leaning back in his chair, treating it like a throne, while Merlin waited patiently for whatever verdict he gave.

‘I hate that you keep doing this to yourself.’ Arthur’s words were murmured, full of an emotion he couldn’t quite place, and Merlin realised that he had taken a deep breath on instinct. It made the King smirk, before he reached for his sleeve, yanking it up.

‘Drink.’ Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that.

‘What? Arthur, no, I…’

‘That’s an order, _Mer_ lin.’ He could have sworn Arthur looked curious, but the word order was messing with Merlin’s head. Enough so that he actually did turn to look at the smooth skin on offer.

‘Arthur…’ He whispered, almost jolting when the King’s other hand rested on the top of his head.

Something was shifting, a boundary being crossed that hadn't been stepped over before, but the Warlock found that he couldn’t care less.

‘Bite.’ He flicked his eyes up to Arthur, maintained eye contact as he pressed his lips to the pulse-point. He watched as Arthur’s breathing hitched, at the way the dark in his eyes expanded when Merlin dared to bite.

Before he could even try to stop himself, a grumbled moan slipped past his lips. The taste of blood was thrilling, like sunlight that filtered down his throat as he tried to savour it, to drink slowly. The fingers in his hair tightened, dragged him closer until Merlin was drinking from the wrist resting on Arthur’s thigh.

He only took two mouthfuls, before trying to pull back.

‘More.’ Arthur stated, while Merlin pulled back and licked his lips.

‘It’s the toxin, your body is reacting…’

‘To you.’ Arthur cut in, to which Merlin fell silent.

‘I…’ He was cut off by Arthur leaning down, slowly, giving him more than enough time to pull away. But he didn’t, instead surged up, capturing Arthur’s lips against his and pushing him back into the chair.

If he only was allowed this once, then Merlin would take anything he was given.

He brought his knees up to either side of Arthur, settled for straddling the King’s body while kissing him again. This hunger, it was definitely more focused on kissing, rather than biting.

The hand in his hair tugged, yanking back until he gasped, watched as Arthur tilted his head to the side.

‘Drink.’

Merlin didn’t wait for an invitation, latched onto the side of his neck and bit down sharply. The King _moaned_ under him, body arching up as his hands went to the back of Merlin’s thighs, guiding him closer.

He still pulled back after a couple of sips, knowing that he couldn’t possibly take too much. He desperately tried to lick the blood from his lips before turning back, but Arthur was quicker, kissing him before he had the chance.

It was obscene, the tongue at his lips and the chair creaking beneath them, Merlin rolling his hips over and over as his body tightened up.

‘Mine.’ One word, said in a tone so low that it shot right to Merlin’s groin, the Warlock gasping in surprise as his body tipped over. Arthur looked smug, jerking up into his hold twice more before they both slumped, and the Warlock dared to let his head rest on Arthur’s shoulder.

‘So.’

‘That just happened.’ Merlin said, then giggled. The King snorted, hitting the back of his thigh, before shifting in the chair.

‘You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.’ Arthur admitted, while Merlin noted the bitemark on his neck. It looked rather good, actually. Finally, he’d figured out why Arthur had stayed away when Merlin was drinking from any of the others, had turned away whenever his eyes flashed red.

‘I got the idea.’ Merlin replied, then grimaced when he felt the sticky mess in his breeches.

‘We should get cleaned up.’ He added, while Arthur shrugged.

‘You’re the speedy one. Fetch me a bath.’ Once a prat, always a prat.

‘I’m not your servant anymore.’ He shot back, standing up regardless.

‘Unless you want George to see me like this…’

‘I’ll get the bath.’


End file.
